


Doggy Style

by FifteenDozenTimes



Category: Bandom, Disney RPF, Panic At The Disco
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Kink Negotiation, Puppy Play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-03
Updated: 2011-08-03
Packaged: 2017-10-23 14:03:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,972
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/251117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FifteenDozenTimes/pseuds/FifteenDozenTimes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Spencer and Nicole are dog people. In a number of ways.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Doggy Style

**Author's Note:**

> Many, many thanks to [LittleMousling](http://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleMousling/) for prodding me to write it, cheerleading while I worked, looking it over for me after I worked, and then titling it on top of that.
> 
> Please note that this is a puppyplay story, ie Spencer is Nicole's sexy pet, so if that kind of thing squicks you run away now.

Spencer brings it up over Skype, of all places, but Nicole understands why. It’s enough like face-to-face to be a few levels up from an e-mail or text, but it’s not quite as intimate as when they’re sitting next to each other. She hadn’t been able to tell him about how she kind of wanted to try fucking him with a strap-on until there were a few thousand miles and two computer screens separating them, either. This is kind of bigger than that, though, and she wishes she had more of his body language to read. It’s hard to get a good feel from just his head and shoulders.

“It’s not—I know it’s weird,” he says, and from what she can see of his shoulders it looks like he’s fidgeting with his hands. “You don’t have to, it’s not, like, y’know, something I _need_ , just something I kind of wanted to try.”

“No, I’ll—I mean, I’m not making any promises, but I’ll think about it.”

“I can e-mail you some stuff,” Spencer says. Even with the shitty lighting in his bunk and the shitty picture on her screen, she can tell he’s blushing, so she just says okay and asks how the show went that night.

Spencer sends her a massive e-mail full of links (sprinkled with commentary, _not exactly like this, but kind of_ , _don’t scroll past the second paragraph, it gets weird_ ), some pictures Nicole likes more than she’s ready to admit, and a few paragraphs he must have written himself, what he must think about when he thinks about getting to do this. He’s obviously given it a lot of thought, so the least Nicole can do is give it a lot of thought herself.

*

“Okay, the bedroom’s set up, so I’ll take the dogs—the, uh, other dogs, I guess— for a walk, and you’ll do dinner, and when I get back you’ll be…y’know? Or do you need to wait for me, is it okay for you to be…like that…alone in the house?”

Spencer looks away from the chicken he’s pounding flat to frown at her. “Are you freaking out? We don’t have to—“

“No,” Nicole says, “I’m just—I’m a little nervous. I don’t want to, like, hurt you. Or not be good for you.”

“I’m supposed to be good for _you_ ,” Spencer says with a wink, but he steps away from the counter to press a kiss to her forehead. “If you don’t want to do it tonight, we can wait.”

“I don’t think waiting is gonna get me any readier,” she admits.

“If you don’t want to—“

“ _Spencer_.” He looks ridiculous, holding his arms way out to the side to avoid getting chicken germs on anything, and he looks half-hopeful and half like he’s bracing himself for her to back out. Nicole isn’t sure she can stand in their cozy little kitchen and explain how hard she’s been getting off on this since she got used to the idea, how she cleared her browser history like thirty times after she found that one site with the, er, anatomically correct dildos and spent the afternoon considering. “I promise, I want to.”

“Awesome,” he says. “Will it make you feel better if I don’t get into it until you get back?”

“I—no, I think I want you—I think I want to come back to you, y’know, like that.”

“All right,” Spencer says, and kisses her again. “Be gone at least an hour, then, so I can get this out of the oven first.”

*

Nicole brings the happily exhausted dogs back to a silent house. Spencer’s curled up on the living room couch with a stuffed duck they’d bought for when Fendi wears out the one he has now, dozing. Nicole bites her lip against the rush of—shit, everything. He looks so _sweet_ like that, but he’s also naked, all that smooth pale skin on display and she knows what’s coming, and…fuck.

She takes a deep breath and herds Fendi and Boba downstairs to their play area. She usually doesn’t like to feed them there, but tonight she doesn’t want them eating in the kitchen, not with Spencer. They’re happy enough to eat their food down with all their toys and their beds, and she doesn’t feel that bad about shutting them down there for one night.

There’s only one plate on the counter, but there’s twice as much food as Nicole usually eats piled on it, and she thinks of the picture with the collared girl on her knees eating from another girl’s hand, the one she’d had in mind when she’d asked Spencer if they could do dinner in the scene. She should’ve gotten him a collar, maybe, that would be—yeah. There’s a note next to the plate, _Remember I’m not the only one who can safeword out! ♥—S_ , and when Nicole calls for Spencer she can’t whistle like she planned to because she’s smiling too hard.

Spencer comes clambering in on all fours while Nicole gets settled at the table—and yeah, he’s definitely naked—with a dopey expression, unsettlingly similar to the face Boba makes when he thinks food is in his immediate future.

“Sit,” she says, pointing at a spot next to her chair. She’s not as firm as she has to be with the—the other dogs, but Spencer obeys immediately, and her stomach swoops a little. He’s not hard, but he’s getting there, and the way he’s looking up at her makes her want—she can’t even narrow it down, he just makes her _want_

“Good boy,” she says, and scratches behind his ear a couple times before turning her attention to cutting her chicken.

Spencer eats from her hands, tongue sloppy on her fingers. She has to tap his nose once or twice, admonish him to be gentle when he nips at her fingers, and she’s so proud of him when he calms right down each time.. Nicole’s so wet it’s getting uncomfortable, from his tongue and his teeth on her fingers, from the way he’s looking at her and how hard he is when she glances down, and she gives up eating halfway through her own dinner in favor of feeding him more quickly so they can get to the main event.

When she feeds him the last piece and turns in her chair to pet him a little, tell him how good he was, he ducks in and gets his head under her loose skirt, nuzzles against her cunt. He licks out with his tongue, just a little, just enough pressure to feel through her panties, and she yelps a little in surprise before pushing him back.

“No,” she says, “ _no_.” He whimpers, and she has a sudden moment of panic; she does want that, jut not here at the table, and what if it’s not okay to tell him no in the kitchen and yes in the bedroom? She wouldn’t—she wouldn’t do that to one of the other dogs, not without making it more of a process.

Spencer butts his head against her knee, and when she looks at him he’s smiling, not his dopey dog-smile but a normal, if a little apprehensive, look. She sighs and pets his hair. “I have a treat for you, baby,” she says, and gets up to lead him to the bedroom.

*

Spencer sits obediently on the floor while she hurries out of her dress and soaked panties, and stays calm like a good boy when she kneels in front of him and kisses his forehead. “Good boy,” she says, “such a good boy.” She pets behind his ears again, and then down his back as far as she can reach, taking her time to reward him. Spencer butts his head against her collarbone, makes it easier for her to pet the back of his neck, and she smiles.

“Good boys get treats, don’t they?” Nicole reaches down to give his cock a few good strokes, enough to make him whimper—he’s ridiculously hard, and if he’s not actually dripping, he’s close to it—before she stands up. “Up,” she says, snaps her fingers and points to the bed. Spencer climbs up the steps they’ve had since Boba had shoulder surgery and looks at her, head cocked, his expectant pre-dinner look back in place. “Good boy,” she says again, and settles next to him on her elbows and knees.

He doesn’t move right away, stays where he is long enough Nicole starts to worry maybe he needs more instructions, but how—she doesn’t know how to say “fuck me” so he’ll understand right now. She’s about to try just saying it when the bed shifts and Spencer’s tongue is lapping over her clit.

Nicole’s sensitive as fuck right now from the buildup, and she cries out a little, shoving her hips back against the perfect tease of his sloppy licking, so good she can’t hold back the whimpering.

Then, too soon, he stops and pulls away—that was definitely payback for teasing his dick, that asshole—and situates himself over her, covering her everywhere. His cock rubs against her cunt, but he doesn’t push in, just ruts his hips and whimpers in frustration.

“Shh—fuck—shh, baby, it’s okay, I’ve got you,” she says, and reaches back to guide him to her hole, open and needy and _ready_. He shoves in in one thrust, presses his hips against her with just enough give to let her shift and find the right angle before he starts thrusting.

Spencer fucks her _hard_ , gracelessly, slapping his hips against hers without anything resembling his usual perfect rhythm. He’s got his hands—curled into fists so they’re more like paws, _fuck_ —over her shoulders, and she’s completely surrounded by him, pinned by his hips, and it’s the hottest fucking feeling in the world.

No, that’s—the hottest fucking feeling is knowing as much as she’s at his mercy, as much as he’s just using her, he’d stop, or slow down, or back off and let her get more comfortable, at a single word from her.

Or maybe it’s imagining that he wouldn’t. “Shit, I— _Spencer_ , shit, good boy, good good boy,” she babbles as she comes without either of them touching her clit.

She wouldn’t have thought it possible for him to fuck her harder than he was, but her orgasm just spurs him on and he pounds her even harder, grunting roughly like it’s being torn out of him as his thrusts slam the headboard against the wall.

The way he cries out when he comes isn’t like any sound she’s ever heard from him, and it shoots straight down her spine to her clit. He pumps his hips while he spurts inside her, then holds them against her, keeping her pinned.

They’d talked about this, one of the few things Spencer had all but insisted on, and it’s fucking—shit, he’s holding her down, holding his come inside her, and he’s shaking from his orgasm, from how oversensitive he is inside the tight clutch of her cunt, from how intense this was, whatever it is, he’s shaking and it’s fucking—this was the best idea he’s ever had.

*

Spencer tucks his face into the curve of her shoulder, kisses her neck and her shoulder and her collarbone and her neck again before tilting his head to look up at her.

“That was _awesome_ ,” he says, grinning so widely that if she didn’t know better, she’d think he’d smoked up.

“It was what you wanted?”

“Better,” he says, kisses her shoulder and tightens his arm across her stomach. “You’re the best.”

“And you’ve been a very good boy,” she teases, and takes the tickling he gives her in retaliation as stoically as she can.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [One Dog Night](https://archiveofourown.org/works/250294) by [LittleMousling](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleMousling/pseuds/LittleMousling)




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